


Meanwhile

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Group Targets [31]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:04:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: Oh, come on, like I wasn't going to do this au?This trope is iconic. It had to be done.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, come on, like I wasn't going to do this au?  
> This trope is iconic. It had to be done.

Bill leans on his mop thoughtfully. “Eve?”

She pops up from behind the counter, hair bubbling free of her headband. “William.”

He makes an effort to ignore the name change. “How do you feel about conspiracy theories?”

Eve rests her arms on the countertop. “Well, it's basically wide-scale gossip, isn't it? So, one hundred per cent in favour. Bonus points if they're ridiculous and stupid.”

“Neat,” Bill says, gliding across the damp floor to bump into the counter inches from her nose. Eve scrunches up her face, giggling, and leans back. “Because I totally cannot prove that Q is making James late every morning. But.”

Eve shakes her head, hiding a grin. “Damn, Bill, that's compelling.” He raises an eyebrow, mirroring her grin. “But how can we prove it?” she says, brushing some fluff from his shoulder.

He shrugs and turns back to mopping the cafe floor. “We need circumstantial evidence and grainy photos in order to do it properly.”

Eve hums, cleaning her coffee machines. “Do you think Gareth would do it on his way here in the mornings? I imagine he could.”

“But who’s going to have the somewhat unbelievable near-Bond experience? I don't want to go to the funny farm, Eve.” Bill shakes his head, staring into the middle distance. “Not again.”

Eve pauses for a moment. “You're bizarre, Tanner.” He laughs. “Besides, isn't this whole thing to prove that  _ Q _ is having a near-Bond experience?”

He nods. “Fair. How much tin foil do we have in the store cupboard?”

Eve grimaces. “Not enough for hats, I'm afraid - bloody hell!”

The door suddenly slams open as the latch finally gives under the pressure of two bodies pressed against it. James and Q, flushed and breathing hard, lie sprawled upon the floor.

Eve folds her arms, frowning. “That’s why we haven't had any customers in a while. What were you thinking?”

“Yeah!” Bill adds. “You ruined our plans for a proper conspiracy theory.”

James and Q exchange embarrassed looks. Gareth appears in the doorway. “I have come in need of a burglar,” he says solemnly. He get three confused stares, but Bill has to hold himself up on his mop for laughter, so he chalks it up as a success. Carefully he steps over the prone figures and heads to the back kitchen. “You two are ridiculous.”

“It's bad for custom,” Eve sighs. “And it’s...unhygienic.”

Bill dips his mop and drapes it carefully over James’ face. “That's better.”

Q finds his voice. “We weren't doing anything.”

“Solid comeback. Absolutely entirely a lie,” Gareth calls over the sound of setting up his baking equipment.

James pushes the mop away and sits up, shrugging. “Sure, but it's hardly a sackable offence to date, right?”

“No, just to be repeatedly late and then block the door,” Eve says. “Get up and do something.”

James salutes her and jumps to his feet, pulling Q up after him and pecking him on the forehead. He vaults the counter and grins brightly at Eve.

Q follows him up to the counter. “Flat white, please.”

“Haven't you heard James sing? You already have one,” Bill quips from the cleaning cupboard.

Q sends him a withering look. “Haha,” he says dryly.

James pouts. “I'm a delight. A delatte,” he says, making the coffee absently.

Eve sighs in commiseration with Q while Bill laughs. “Gareth,” she groans, “save us from these wits.”

“You're very much on your own,” he replies.

“How much?” Q says, reaching out for his mug.

James presents his cheek. “A kiss.”

“And two pounds seventy,” Eve adds.

Q smiles and obeys, dropping his coins into Eve’s palm and pressing his lips to James’ cheek. “Damned Brexit price hike,” he murmurs, “it was just two pounds seventy the other day.”

Q sits in the corner, nursing his coffee and working while the others serve coffee and make cake. In the quiet moments he leans on the counter and they chat, until the lunch rush hits and they transition to paninis and sandwiches while Q attempts to occupy as little space as possible in the kitchen.

At the end of the day they drag the tables together and eat the leftover cake, little that there is.

“So is proving your conspiracy more or less satisfying than not?” James says, sharing a large slice of chocolate cake with Q.

“Way less satisfying,” Eve says sadly. “Sucks all the joy out of life.”

“So we like conspiracies,” Gareth says, “but how do we feel about aliens?”

Q scoffs. “Obviously. Millions of galaxies, and we're the only ones out there? Also, aliens are awesome.”

“Not as cool as dragons,” Bill says. “What about ghosts?”

James and Gareth look at each other in scorn. “No way,” James says.

“The supernatural - you know, werewolves and sirens and that - seem a bit unrealistic to me,” Gareth says, sipping his chai latte.

“Superheroes seem pretty unlikely too,” Eve says. “We'd know, right? It'd be pretty hard to hide.”

“Sure,” Q says.

Bill leans forward, elbows on the table. “Okay, but what about parallel universes and stuff?” The others stare at him incredulously. “You know, there's an alternate dimension where we're all pirates or dancers or spies or something.”

They think about it for a moment. “Nah,” Eve decides.

“It’s not impossible, but fairly improbable,” Q says.

“Besides,” Gareth says. “James and Q couldn't even keep their relationship a secret. They'd be terrible spies.”

“Fair,” Bill says, shrugging. “But if your MI6 parallel comes to kill you, don't come crying to me.”

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S OVER!! I'd like to thank the academy, and my mum, who has not read this and never will.
> 
> Seriously, thanks for reading, even if you only read one of the thirty-one I wrote this month. Three cheers for combefaerie, for being supportive and helpful and interested, even when I wasn't. Inktober has been pretty rad, but really tough and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad it's over. Also, no one would believe me, because it's been all I've been talking about for the past week.
> 
> So here's to you, me, and November. It's certainly been something.


End file.
